


sparks revival

by glowinghorizons



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Family, Fluff, Post-Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-08 00:50:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7736653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowinghorizons/pseuds/glowinghorizons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Fine,” he says, frustrated beyond belief. “Fine. I’ll just pretend I didn’t find you half-dead in the woods, then.”</p>
<p>He starts to storm away but he feels her hand on his elbow, and even when he flinches away from her soft touch, he still stops, cursing himself for being so pathetic. He can’t even stay angry at her when he really wants to be.</p>
<p>“If you’re going to yell at me about taking better care of myself, then you better believe it’s a two-way street,” Clarke starts, and Bellamy shakes his head, ready to protest, but she stops him. “You haven’t been sleeping. You have a lot of injuries, Bellamy! Finn told me that you’ve barely stopped for breath since the battle at the Dropship.”</p>
<p>“Finn should mind his own business,” Bellamy mutters, his tone that of someone who’s been caught doing something they’re not supposed to be doing.</p>
<p>Clarke’s eyes are soft as she smiles at him, amused. “We both need to be better.” </p>
            </blockquote>





	sparks revival

**Author's Note:**

> S2 AU based on this prompt: _“I will die protecting you. No question about it. I care for you more than anyone else in the universe, and even though I act like you’re a pain in the ass, I love you so much, you dweeb.”_
> 
> Also features Clarke + Miller besties because I love the possibility of that friendship a lot.
> 
> Title comes from the song "Clear" by NEEDTOBREATHE.

When Bellamy finds her in the woods dressed in unfamiliar clothes, eyes wide and darting around like she doesn’t know where she is, he’s prepared for the worst. He’s prepared for irreparable damage, but what he _isn’t_ prepared for is for her to literally throw herself into his arms, her tears dampening his neck and the collar of his shirt.

He stumbles backwards at the force of her embrace, his arms coming around her purely on instinct. He feels her legs go limp shortly after that, and fear strikes him hard when he tries to rouse her, her eyes dilated and out of focus. Lifting her into his arms, he ignores Finn calling out for him and strides as fast as he can back to camp. 

.

.

“They wouldn’t have hurt me,” she protests, glaring at him, “they _needed_ me for information. I was the one refusing to eat and sleep.”

“You have to get better survival skills than that, princess,” Bellamy says, glaring right back at her, refusing to back down. “You were right not to trust them, but you need to do a better job at keeping yourself alive.” Frustrated, he turns away from her, rubbing his face. This is the third time in a week since she’s been back that they’ve had this argument. 

“I _am_ alive, Bellamy.” She says quietly, and his frustration boils over.

“Barely!” He shouts, whirling around to face her. Then, quieter, “you were barely alive, Clarke. When I found you… fuck, Clarke, you couldn’t even stand on your own. You didn’t know where you were. You could have wandered into a trap! What if the Grounders would have found you before I did?”

Clarke glares. “I can take care of myself. I was the one who got out of there, in case you didn’t notice.” 

Bellamy’s hands are on his hips and he knows somewhere deep down that he’s overreacting, but he just can’t deal with how flippant Clarke is being at this whole held-against-her-will thing. She’s acting like it’s normal, and it makes him _furious_. Her disregard for her own safety is one of her most admirable _and_ most frustrating qualities.

“Fine,” he says, frustrated beyond belief. “Fine. I’ll just pretend I didn’t find you half-dead in the woods, then.”

He starts to storm away but he feels her hand on his elbow, and even when he flinches away from her soft touch, he still stops, cursing himself for being so pathetic. He can’t even stay angry at her when he really wants to be.

“If you’re going to yell at me about taking better care of myself, then you better believe it’s a two-way street,” Clarke starts, and Bellamy shakes his head, ready to protest, but she stops him. “You haven’t been sleeping. You have a lot of injuries, Bellamy! Finn told me that you’ve barely stopped for breath since the battle at the Dropship.”

“Finn should mind his own business,” Bellamy mutters, his tone that of someone who’s been caught doing something they’re not supposed to be doing.

Clarke’s eyes are soft as she smiles at him, amused. “We both need to be better.” 

He nods, not sure what else to say, and they turn to walk out of the Med Bay together, back to the debriefing with Clarke’s mom and Marcus Kane. They were in the middle of finding out what else Clarke knows about Mount Weather before Bellamy had all but dragged her out of there after he found out that she’d been basically held captive. 

When they get back to the council room, Abby continues to look at him with a disapproving frown, but this time he and Clarke are side by side instead of standing opposite each other, and somehow that’s all the support he needs.

.

.

“Has anyone seen Clarke?” Bellamy makes his way through the section of Camp Jaha that somehow consists entirely of the 100 ( _47_ , his brain reminds him, _47_ ) kids, looking for a glimpse of blonde hair. 

“She’s with Raven,” Monty says as they pass each other. 

Now that all of their people are out of Mount Weather unscathed, things are finally beginning to resemble normalcy. Bellamy still hates living under the rule of the council, but he’s not sure if he could ever convince some of these kids who have real beds to sleep in, real food on their plates and who have been reunited with their parents to ever branch out on their own again. 

Heading towards Raven’s tent, Bellamy stops short when he hears them talking, both of them sounding choked up. His protective instincts rear up when he can tell that Clarke is crying, and his brow furrows when it sounds like Raven is too. 

He opens the flap without announcing himself, and frowns at the sight of them -- side by side on Raven’s cot, both of them in tears.

“What the hell happened?” He asks, bewildered. 

“Nothing, nothing--” Clarke says, wiping her face. She smiles at him, and he would stop to admire the sight, but he’s so confused about what’s happening that he can’t do anything else but stare at her. 

“We’re fine,” Raven says, her voice thick with unshed tears. “We’re just-- we were just talking.”

“Which one of you is hurt?” Bellamy demands. “What _happened_?”

“You’re going to have an aneurysm if you don’t calm down,” Clarke says pointedly, sniffling. “We’re fine. Really. We just-- we had a conversation that’s been a long time coming.”

Clarke stands, heading towards the entrance to Raven’s tent. “I need to head to the medbay. Walk with me?” She says to Bellamy, who’s still standing between the two women, probably looking every bit the confused male that he is. 

“Sure…” he agrees, looking suspiciously at Raven, who has the biggest smirk on her face. He hates the feeling of other people knowing things he doesn’t, and he’s eager to talk to Clarke and figure out what the hell is going on. 

“Want to tell me what that was all about?” He asks, rifle stiff in his hands as he walks with Clarke back in the direction he came from not long ago. 

Clarke shrugs. “It was nothing. We just… we had some unresolved issues. We resolved them.”

“You’re being pretty evasive, princess.” 

Clarke stops in front of the medbay. “Why are you being so weird?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re so _worried_ ,” she says, the corners of her lips turning up in amusement.

Bellamy huffs. “You were crying,” he counters. Quieter, “I don’t-- I thought something was wrong.”

Clarke blinks, and then her whole face transforms into this-- this _look_. He doesn’t think he can quite describe it, or what it does to his insides to see her smiling at him like this. Her eyes are so soft and her smile-- he has to look away.

“I’m okay, Bellamy.” She says sincerely, and he thinks about her the day he found her again, cuts on her face and bruises on her legs, barely able to stand and clinging to him with all her strength, and he has to remind himself that she’s _better_ now. They’re all better. They got their people out, and she’s _okay_. 

“Yeah,” he says, agreeing, his voice a low rasp. “Yeah. Sorry.”

After Clarke goes back into the medbay, Bellamy turns to leave, feeling eyes on his back. He sees Raven at the entrance to her tent, that stupid smirk still on her face, and he can feel a blush rising up in his cheeks as he heads towards the gate to start his guard shift. 

“You’re too protective for your own good,” Raven calls after him, and he lifts his hand over his head, his middle finger up in the air. 

He hears Raven’s laugh follow him all the way to the gate.

.

.

There’s a tiny voice in Bellamy’s head that tells him he’s bordering on overreacting again, but he almost can’t hear it over the blood roaring in his ears. 

He came into the medbay minutes earlier looking for Clarke, wanting to talk over the guard rotation for the 100’s area of the camp when he heard a raised voice, and peered into the exam room to see a man towering over Clarke, gripping her arm so tight her fingers were turning white.

“I _need_ morphine,” the man is saying, but whatever else he was going to say is lost as Bellamy takes three strides into the room and has the man pushed up against the wall in 30 seconds, Bellamy’s hand tightening around his throat.

“Bellamy!” He can hear Clarke shout behind him, but he doesn’t care, not when he can _see_ the fear on Clarke’s face. He can _see_ it, and Clarke never shows weakness. She never shows when something is bothering her, or making her afraid.

“If I ever catch you touching her again you’re going to have to answer to me,” Bellamy threatens, his voice low and dangerous. “Get the hell out of here before I make you.”

The man stumbles out of the room, and before Clarke even opens her mouth, Bellamy holds up a hand and cuts her off. “I know, I know, I overreacted, you can take care of yourself, I didn’t need to storm in here like some kind of--”

“Bell--”

“-- And I know you don’t need me to protect you, but I heard his voice and I got worried, so I’m not going to apologize for keeping you out of harm’s way--”

“ _Bellamy_.” Clarke is suddenly right in front of him, her eyes a little watery. “I was going to say thank you, you idiot.”

Bellamy feels like he might be blushing, which-- no. He needs to stop getting all flustered in front of her. He is a grown-ass man and doesn’t _blush_. “Yeah, well--” he clears his throat. “You’re welcome.” They both look down at the ground a little awkwardly. “Are you alright?”

“I’m alright,” she tells him, her right hand absently rubbing her left wrist where finger shaped bruises are sure to form in the morning. “I just need to finish up here and then I was going to get something to eat…” she trails off, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Have you eaten yet?”

He takes the not-quite-invitation for what it is and takes a seat on the nearest stool. “Not yet.” 

“Good.” She says, smiling.

.

.

Bellamy is on perimeter guard on a hot afternoon when his radio crackles to life at his hip, Miller’s voice coming through, frantic and talking almost too fast for Bellamy to understand.

Miller and a couple of the other “delinquents”, as they’ve started referring to themselves, were out scouting a possible location for the kids to start their own settlement. They’ve been talking about branching out on their own for months now, since everyone got out of Mount Weather and since things have been relatively quiet. They’ve kept it amongst themselves for the most part, most of them too afraid to find out what would happen if the council discovered their plans.

“ _Ark Station, this is Rover One, come in!_ ” 

“Rover One, this is the Ark.” 

Another crackle. “ _We need the gate open and Doctor Griffin ready for two injuries as soon as we get back.”_

Bellamy’s stomach sinks. “Miller, who’s hurt?” 

Dead air is all Bellamy hears for a few seconds until he can hear the roar of the engine in the distance, dust and dirt coming up in clouds behind the rover as it nearly careens for the gate. Bellamy snaps into action, shouting at the guards. “Get that gate open, now!” 

He sprints to the Med Bay, calling for Abby. “I need you out here.” 

Abby’s face pinches, as it almost always does when she speaks to Bellamy. “I don’t take orders from you.”

Bellamy looks at her incredulously. “People are hurt! They need help.”

“No one is supposed to be outside the walls.” 

Bellamy throws his hands up. “Forget it. I’ll get Clarke to help us.” He turns to leave, but Abby’s voice stops him. 

“Good luck finding her. She requested today off this morning and I haven’t seen her since.”

Bellamy freezes, his blood running cold at her words. _I haven’t seen her since_. Without saying anything, he turns and sprints out of the medbay, skidding to a stop in the middle of the camp where the rover comes to a screeching halt, Miller jumping out of the driver’s seat, his uniform speckled with blood. 

“What the fuck happened?” Bellamy demands when he gets close enough. He feels like lately all he does is ask this question over and over.

Miller rolls his eyes. “Save the yelling for later and help me, will you?” He says gruffly, going to open the back end of the rover, Bellamy’s fists balling up when he sees Clarke lying on the floor, Octavia leaning over her, pressing a bandage against Clarke’s abdomen. “Come on, we have to get her to medical--”

“She wasn’t supposed to be with you--” 

“Well, she was, and she got kidnapped, _again_ \--” Miller huffs, lifting Clarke into a bridal-style carry. “-- look, we need to find her Mom, I don’t know what else to do.” 

Bellamy stops, seeing the fear and worry etched on Miller’s face, and feels a wave of fondness for his friend. He follows Miller into the medbay, watching as Abby’s eyes widen before she springs into action, calling for Jackson to help her take care of Clarke. 

“We’re not leaving,” Miller says when Abby tries to kick him and Bellamy out, and only then does the seriousness of what happened to Clarke sink in. 

“Wait--” Bellamy says, turning to Miller. “You said two injuries on the radio.”

Miller’s jaw clenches, and Bellamy looks at his friend, noticing the way he’s favoring his left side.

“ _Miller_.” 

“It’s nothing. We need to worry about Clarke, first.”

They’re both quiet for a few minutes, watching Abby and Jackson hover over Clarke, cleaning her wound and talking about the best way to close it. 

“What happened? Why was she even with you?” Bellamy thinks he sounds a little desperate, but he can’t control it.

“You know how she is,” Miller says, wincing as he watches Abby pull Clarke’s stitches tight. “She practically demanded to go. She said she had to get out of camp before she started fighting with her Mom again.” He whispers this last part, not intending for Abby to hear him. 

Bellamy sighs, rubbing his face. “She’s too reckless.”

“She’s _bored_. Abby practically keeps her under lock and key in the Med Bay. She doesn’t know where her place is anymore.” 

Bellamy nods. “I know.” His mind starts thinking of all the scenarios they’ve talked about over the last few weeks - how they can manage to move to another part of their territory, how they would need to establish trade with the Ark and with the Grounders… suddenly it seems like more of a priority. 

“She needs to rest now,” Abby says, startling Bellamy. “She’ll be fine.”

Bellamy only realizes his hands are in fists when, on her way out of the room, Abby absently places her hand over his, giving him a look he can’t decipher. 

.

When Clarke wakes up two hours later, Bellamy is there, sitting in a low chair by her bed. He watches as she looks around blearily, her pupils focusing on him a few seconds later. She visibly relaxes, and he feels his relief at seeing her awake slowly ebb to anger.

He doesn’t _want_ to be angry with her, but he just can’t stop seeing her lying there, her shirt stained red with blood, her face so, _so_ pale. 

“What happened?” She asks him groggily, tilting her head to look at him. There’s a scratch on her cheek reminiscent of when he found her in the woods months ago, and he bites his lip to keep from yelling at her.

“Miller said you were taken by Ice Nation warriors outside the Trikru boundary.”

Clarke winces. “I… I was in the river. Trying to get more seaweed.” 

Bellamy swallows. “You never should have been out with a recon team, Clarke. If you need supplies, you go with a _supply_ team. We’ve _talked_ about this--”

“Bellamy--”

“It took Miller over three hours to track you. Do you understand what might have happened if he didn’t there in time?” 

“I know, I--”

“You feel cooped up here in camp, well, join the club. It doesn’t mean we all get to leave the walls whenever we want, especially outside the boundary!” 

Clarke’s eyes flash. “Are you going to listen to me, or just yell at me?” 

Bellamy huffs, crossing his arms over his chest, as if to say _let’s hear it_. 

“Is Miller okay?” Clarke asks, when she’s sure he won’t yell at her. His heart clenches a little at the concern on her face. Typical Clarke, he thinks, always worrying about everyone else. 

“He’s fine now.” Bellamy says. “He got in a fight with one of the people holding you captive and broke a few ribs. Your Mom took care of him.” 

Clarke’s face falls, and Bellamy feels a bit of his anger fall away with it. He’s angry with her for being so reckless, but he doesn’t want to upset her, no when she should be resting. “I’m sorry.” She says, but it’s more of a whimper than anything else. “I know I shouldn’t have gone out, but I just can’t _stand_ this anymore, Bellamy. I need to feel useful, and I don’t know how else to--”

Bellamy puts his hand over hers, stopping her. “It’s okay, Clarke. I get it. I overreacted, so I’m sorry for that, too. I just--” He trails off, running a hand through his messy hair. “I can’t stand the thought of you hurt, especially when I’m not there to help you.” His words come out raw, honest, and he wonders where the filter on his mouth disappeared to. These thoughts are ones that he keeps quiet, only thinking them in the privacy of his own head. 

“You’re mad at me,” Clarke points out.

Bellamy rolls his eyes. “Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t come after you if you needed me, Clarke.” He tells her, his voice gruff. 

“It’s the same for me, Bell.” Clarke tells him softly. “It’s the same.”

.

.

Bellamy feels strangely like crying when the Dropship comes into view. It’s still standing, after all this time. Logically, he knows it’s literally made of reinforced steel and God knows what else, but for some reason he expected it to look more… abandoned. 

“Why do I have the creeps?” Jasper asks from next to him, and Bellamy snorts. 

“Ghosts, Jas. Ghosts.” 

Jasper looks at him warily. “You freak me out when you start talking like that.” 

“He’s just trying to hide the fact that he’s going to cry.” Miller interrupts, coming to stand next to them, supporting Clarke, who is still hobbling around practically on one leg as her leg takes time to heal. She’s got her arm looped over Miller’s shoulders, and Miller’s is around her waist lightly. 

Bellamy thinks he should be jealous at the sight of Clarke draped over someone else like this, but all he feels is affection for his friends. After Clarke got hurt, things changed. Bellamy was more open to her about what he was thinking and feeling, and Clarke is freer with her touches, her smiles. 

_“She’s never looked at me any differently than she did when we were kids,” Miller explains to Bellamy one night after both of them have had a few drinks. “We used to play together when our parents were in meetings. Then I got arrested, and… well. You know the rest.” Miller takes a sip of moonshine, wincing at the burn as it goes down. “When we got to the ground, I was still the same person who used to sit with Clarke and play cards in the Med Bay on the Ark. She never looked at me like I was a criminal.” He shrugs. “She’s one of my best friends.”_

_Bellamy looks away, both men feeling uncomfortable, not used to sharing so much about their feelings with one another._

_“I’m not an idiot,” Miller says suddenly. “I know how you feel about her. That’s why I’m telling you this.”_

_“I don’t--” Bellamy tries to interrupt._

_“Save it.” Miller says, his mouth tilting up in an amused smile. “You guys are both in over your heads for each other, but both too stubborn to do something about it. I just don’t want to be another reason for you to be a dumbass about this.”_

_“Hey--”_

_Miller laughs, ducking away from Bellamy’s punch. “Seriously, dude. You need to figure your shit out. And if you distance yourself from her because of some self-sacrificing bullshit, I’m going to kick your ass.”_

Now, here, in the shadow of the ship that brought them all together, Bellamy takes a minute to be grateful that he’s here with these people, and to remember the ones they’ve lost along the way. 

“We have a lot of work to do.” Clarke says quietly, looking around. “If we’re going to take down the wall we better get started before it gets dark. 

“We’ll do what we can for now, and sleep in the ship tonight.” Bellamy decides. “We need the pieces of the wall intact so we can build with them, so tell the teams not to hack away.” 

Bellamy turns to face the sixty-odd people who have followed them here. All members of the original Hundred are here, as well as some of their parents, and some people from the Ark who are eager to start new lives. “We’re going to set up in the Dropship tonight until we can get some semi-permanent housing figured out. Put your stuff on the second and third levels and meet back out here so we can get going.” 

The afternoon goes by quickly with the hard work under the hot sun, and Bellamy is just about to take a break when he hears Miller swear from the other side of the wall. 

“God _dammit_ , Clarke--” 

Bellamy is moving before he hears the rest of the conversation, and when he gets around to the other side, his heart plummets when he sees Clarke half-slumped against the wall, favoring her bad leg. 

“I told you he was going to kill you,” Miller is saying, crouched down next to her, struggling to get the lid off his canteen to offer Clarke some water. 

“Why are you working?” Bellamy demands, planting his hands on his hips. “You’re supposed to be in the Med Bay getting things prepared--”

“If you tell me what to do one more time, I swear, Bellamy--”

“You’re going to hurt yourself--” 

“She _already_ hurt herself.” Miller supplies, unhelpfully. He shrugs under the force of Clarke’s glare. “What? I told you--”

“I’m sick of the both of you telling me what to do! First my Mom, and now you! All I want to do is feel useful again and I can’t do that if I’m not _allowed_ to leave the Dropship!” A tear leaks out of Clarke’s eyes and Bellamy watches it, gaping at her. He’s not sure she even knows she’s crying, but he imagines it’s a mix of exhaustion and frustration that have her lashing out. Not to mention she’s clearly in pain. 

“Clarke, let me help you.” Bellamy says, gently. “You need to rest and let your Mom check out your leg.” Abby has come with them to the dropship, on a temporary basis until they’re done with the reconstruction, because obviously Clarke isn’t as mobile as she needs to be. 

“I’m so tired.” Clarke says, and Bellamy’s heart breaks a little for her. 

“ I know. Come on.” 

He lifts her up in his arms and his chest clenches at how light she feels. Nodding gratefully at Miller, he takes her to the dropship, dropping her inside the Med Bay where her Mom is setting up a few exam tables and chairs, and organizing the supplies. 

“What happened?” She asks when Bellamy sets Clarke down. 

“She was working. She’s _supposed_ to be in here with you, but we all know how that goes.” 

“Bellamy, I swear--”

Bellamy holds his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. Sorry. Just… just let your Mom look at your leg and stay in here, okay? Please.” 

“Why was she out there?” Abby asks, her voice hard, glaring at Bellamy. 

Bellamy glares right back. “I’m sorry. Have you ever tried to tell her what to do?” 

“Hey!” Clarke protests, but Bellamy ignores her.

“I’m not going to follow her around all day. I have things to do and so does she.” 

“She needs to rest--”

“ _She_ is right here and can hear you.” Clarke interrupts heatedly. “I went out there because I’m tired of being cooped up inside. I feel useless and I _hate_ it.” Bellamy can hear her voice getting thick with tears again, and he kneels down beside her to try to stop her tears before they can start again.

“Hey. Look at me.” He says, touching her chin lightly. He can practically feel the weight of Abby’s glare on the back of his head, but he ignores it, focusing on Clarke. “I know how you feel, okay? I’ve felt that way for weeks. But Clarke, you’re not going to help anyone _or_ yourself if you keep getting hurt.” He stops her as she tries to say something. “I’m serious, Clarke. I can’t-- I can’t keep watching you get hurt because you don’t listen to your Mom or are too exhausted to be working. Please for once, just listen to me and get some rest. You’re not useless. No one will think any less of you.” 

Clarke’s face crumples, and Bellamy barely has time to get his arms open before she falls into them, her head resting against his collarbone. 

“Hey, hey.” He whispers, brushing a hand over the back of her head. “It’s okay.” 

“I’m sorry.” She whispers, her voice small, and he hates that he’s made her feel like this. 

“Stop apologizing. Just go to sleep.” 

Unable to help himself, he presses a lingering kiss to her forehead before exiting the dropship, ignoring Abby as she tries to get his attention. 

.

.

Bellamy wakes up to shouting in the main courtyard of the camp, and he’s instantly on alert when he hears Octavia’s harsh voice, a mixture of English and the clipped sounds of Trigedasleng. 

He tucks his pistol into the waistband of his pants before pulling on his boots quickly, exiting his tent. When he gets out into the open, he sees what looks practically like a standoff, and his jaw clenches when he sees the Commander in full war paint in the middle of _his_ _camp_. 

“I don’t know what the fuck you think you’re doing here--” Bellamy says, striding quickly towards her, but he’s stopped by Octavia’s hand on his elbow and Miller’s voice. 

“Bellamy, don’t.” 

“We’ve come to talk terms.” Lexa says, in that infuriatingly calm voice of hers. 

Bellamy laughs. “You’re out of your damn mind if you think I’m going to negotiate with you.”

“I won’t be negotiating with _you_ ,” Lexa says icily. “Clarke is the one we wish to speak with.” 

Fury rises in Bellamy’s chest so fast, not just at the way she’s so casually dismissed him and his leadership, but at the audacity that she would come here and ask to speak with a person that she left for dead in the middle of a war. “You’ve got a lot of nerve.” Bellamy says, his voice low and dangerous. 

“ _Bellamy_.” Octavia hisses, trying to get his attention. 

“If you think you can just walk in here like you didn’t leave all of us to _die_ \--” 

“Bellamy!” Clarke’s voice is loud through the fog clouding his brain and his judgment and he hates the smug look on Lexa’s face as Clarke appears through the crowd. “Let me handle this.” She says as she gets closer, quiet so only he can hear. 

Bellamy clenches his jaw. “We can’t treat them like guests after what they did.” 

“I know that.” Clarke says, and for the first time, Bellamy notices the barely disguised anger in her bright eyes. “We can’t afford to make them enemies again, Bell.” 

Deep down, Bellamy knows she’s right. He also knows the look on her face when she remembers Mt. Weather, and remembers his own pain at what they had to do, and he feels the hatred towards Lexa build up again, begging to be released. “A half hour, in the mess hall, where I can hear if things start to get out of hand.”

Clarke frowns. “No, I want you there.” 

“What are you talking about? She said--”

“I don’t _care_.” Clarke says, surprising him with her ferocity. “We lead together.” 

Bellamy feels a sudden wave of tenderness towards Clarke surge up inside of him and looks down at his feet, fighting back a grin. “Okay then.” 

The meeting takes over an hour, not the 30 minutes they agreed to, but Bellamy bites his tongue and listens to Lexa’s conditions before laying out a few of his own. By the team Lexa and her team leaves, he’s grinding his teeth together at every word coming out of Lexa’s mouth.

After they leave, Clarke and Bellamy slump down in their chairs, Bellamy feeling a headache coming on. 

“I can’t believe she just showed up here.” Clarke says quietly, looking over at him, her arms folded over her chest. “I never… I didn’t ever want to--”

“Clarke,” Bellamy begins tiredly, “Don’t worry about it. It’s done. We’ll have supplies for winter and they’ll get off our backs for a little while.” 

“What if they turn on us again? How will we defend ourselves?” Clarke asks, chewing on her bottom lip. “We don’t have the defenses that we had before, we don’t even know if--”

Bellamy leans over, placing his hand on her knee. “Clarke, stop. You need to relax. It’s going to be okay, all right? I’m going to make sure of it.” He tells her firmly, rubbing her knee in what he hopes is a soothing manner. 

Clarke seems to go boneless in the chair, and he can practically see the moment her exhaustion hits her. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. I should go take some more meds. Are you…”

“Am I what?” He asks, not used to seeing her so unsure of herself. He hates that Lexa gets to her like this, that Lexa makes her doubt herself and her choices at Mt. Weather. If Lexa would have held up her end of the bargain, Clarke would never have had to make that choice in the first place. 

“Are you going to wait up for me tonight?” She asks, and his heart stops. They haven’t talked about this. He was beginning to think they were _never_ going to talk about this, about how every night since she got hurt, Clarke has been coming to his tent after everyone else is asleep. They just sleep, but it’s still the most intimate thing he’s ever shared with anyone, and he never knew how to bring it up. He didn’t want her to stop coming to him, because it means that she trusts him to help her when she needs it, and be someone she can lean on. 

“If you want me to.” He replies, hoping his voice isn’t as gravely as it sounds to him. They’ve never done this. He’s always pretended to be asleep, or actually _been_ asleep when she’s come into his tent, and he would wake up to her warmth pressed against him, wondering how he missed her crawling into his bed. 

“I want you to.” Clarke says, and like a puzzle piece sliding into place, he practically hears a _click_ as the last remaining piece of his heart puts itself back together.

.

.

Bellamy makes up his mind about Clarke on a cold winter afternoon when he sees her across camp from him, fussing over the delinquents, making sure they all have their furs wrapped around them tightly. 

The cold has flushed her cheeks a light pink, and he suddenly can’t wait another day to tell her how he feels about her. 

If he’s learned anything in his time on the ground, it’s that life is too short to waste a second of it, and he never knows when the next challenge is going to pop up, or when their lives are going to be threatened. He needs her, specifically, he knows, to stay sane, and he thinks she feels the same way about him. 

That night, he decides. When she comes to him that night before they both go to bed, he’s going to tell her how he feels, and he’s going to make her see that they _deserve_ this. He wants her, and he hopes she wants him too. 

A few hours later, after the mess hall has been cleaned up after dinner, he heads to his half-finished cabin. It’s definitely an upgrade from his tent, but not quite finished yet. It’ll keep him warm during the winter, however, and that’s all he can ask for. 

When he gets there, Clarke is already inside, muttering to herself as she lights a fire in his makeshift fireplace and cleans up. The scene is so domestic he almost blurts it out right there, but he forces himself to wait. Shutting the door behind him, he watches as she notices him, and sends him that smile that he’s beginning to covet so much. 

“Hey.” She says, and he grins at her. 

“Hey. Busy day?” 

She rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “Always.” 

“Can I talk to you for a second?” He asks her, and takes a seat on the edge of his bed, unlacing his boots. He’s surprised at how calm he feels. This is such a momentous occasion for the both of them; he’s surprised he doesn’t feel like jumping out of his skin. 

“Yeah, of course. What’s going on?” She asks, brows furrowed in concern. 

“Nothing bad.” _I don’t think_ , he adds in his head. “I just… I have something I want to tell you.” He takes a deep breath, and she sits next to him, her leg bouncing. “Remember last week when we got in a huge fight because I thought you needed stitches?” 

Clarke scoffs. “Yes, _Doctor_ Bellamy.” 

Bellamy laughs. “I’m just-- I’m just saying… you know I only act that way because I care about you, right?” He looks in her eyes, trying to make her see how serious he is. “Clarke, I… I know I don’t always show it the right way, but you-- you mean _everything_ to me.” He hears the hitch in her breath and forces himself to plow on. “I would do anything to protect you, and keep you safe. That’s never going to change. And I hope that you know that I act the way I do not because I want to stifle you, but because I’m-- I’m in _love_ with you, Clarke.” 

Clarke’s jaw drops open and Bellamy just stares at her, not sure what else to say. 

“This is the part where you say something, because if you don’t, I think I’ll--” he’s cut off before he can tell her he’s going to leave her alone by her gripping his hand so tight that it kind of hurts. 

“I have been waiting for you to say something for _weeks,_ Bellamy Blake! I’m so mad at you right now, I--”

Bellamy cuts her off by tugging her close and slanting his mouth over hers, the idea that she’s been waiting for him too, too much to take. “Clarke,” he mumbles in between kisses, aware that this is too much, too fast, but she doesn’t pull away, and neither does he. 

When they finally need oxygen, he leans away from her slightly, his hands in her hair and hers gripping his arms. “I’m always gonna be the one that’s here for you, okay?” He tells her fiercely, his heart pounding in time with the rapid pulse in her neck. 

“I know, Bell. I’ve known that for a long time.” 

He sighs, his eyes falling shut. “Good.” 

“Yeah. It’s good.” She agrees, pulling him close once more. 

.

.

“Bellamy, wake up.” 

“No.” Bellamy grunts, scowling. 

“Bellamy.” 

“Something better be on fire.” 

“It’s Clarke.” Octavia insists, and that gets Bellamy’s eyes open, because it’s too early, she’s not supposed to-- “Are you coming, or what?!” 

Bellamy gets out of bed in record time, still pulling his shirt over his head when he spots her in the middle of camp, sitting on a log and not looking happy about it. 

“You’re not supposed to be awake.” She says, grumpy. 

“And you’re not supposed to be leaving yet,” he argues, sitting down next to her. “It’s too early.” 

“It might snow later. Lincoln said we should leave early if we’re going to make it to Camp Jaha before it gets bad.” 

Bellamy sighs. “Do you have to go?” 

“They need my help, Bell.” She says, practically pouting at him. She knows what that does to him. 

“I know. I don’t have to like it, though.” 

Clarke reaches up to brush the hair out of his eyes. “It’s only for a few days.” 

“Won’t stop me from worrying.” 

Clarke smiles. “I know.” She reaches for his face, pulling him towards her, kissing him sweetly. “I love you.” 

Bellamy’s heart swells. “I love you. Be safe.” 

“I’ll be back soon. Everything’s going to be fine.” 

When she comes back in four days, her smile is radiant as she looks at him, and he grins back, uncaring about the way Miller snickers behind him, and ignoring Lincoln’s knowing smile from over Clarke’s shoulder. 

He never thought he would have this, but now that he does, he knows he’s not going to give it up. 

 

_You're the true north pointing back home_  
You are the constant, my constellation  
You're the steady hands of a ticking clock that I'll come to rely on 

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [tumblr](http://dreamingundone.tumblr.com)!


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